“Don’t mind him, Mal. Go ahead.”
“Silent contempt for yours, Rob. I mean just this; Hop and Prentiss and his whole team are worried. They’ve been losing games right along; they haven’t got together once the whole season and they know it. They’re—they’re disrupted—”
“Fancy that!” murmured Rob.
“And they haven’t confidence. On the other hand—”
“Is an ink-stain,” said Rob. “It’s unkind to draw attention to it, nevertheless, Professor. I assure you that I’ve tried pumice—”
“Oh, cut it out, Rob!” begged Evan. “Mal’s right about it.”
“On the other hand,” went on Malcolm, “our team has plenty of confidence, we aren’t worried and we believe we’re going to win. We have public opinion on our side, too; the School believes that we are going to win—”
“Every one except Evan,” muttered Rob sadly.
“And all that counts for us,” said Malcolm. “You take two fellows, one cheerful and confident and another worried and doubtful, and other things being equal the first fellow will win out every time. It’s the same way, I reckon, with foot-ball teams.”
“That’s so,” agreed Rob soberly. “And that crowd is surely worried and up in the air. As for Prentiss—say, Gus told me to-day that the management’s in debt about forty dollars already and they can’t get the fellows to shell out. And Hop’s as blue as an Adams sweater. I’m almost sorry for him.”